Stars Above Edo
by Thunderbolt Blast
Summary: Historical AU. Hiro is an aspiring samurai to the shogunate, succeeding his famed older brother. GoGo is a servant in a geisha household, taken in from poverty on the streets. Of course, their routes in life get unnecessarily complicated when they meet. Hiro/GoGo.
1. A False Geisha

So, here it is! The feudal AU fic for Big Hero 6 that I've had stuck in my head for a while now. This is supposed to be sort of historical with some artistic license, but hopefully not too much, as the time period for this is meant to be the Edo/Tokugawa era. It's also probably one of the few fandom AUs where Tadashi is actually dead. Sorry, folks, but I promise it's for good reason.

And...wow, I really don't think I can let go of Hiro/GoGo, or at least the idea of it. I'll be honest, I'd ship it if it weren't for the age and maturity differences and the fact I like their canonical relationship the way it is, but I just like them together in general—platonic or romantic.

**Very important note: **Honey Lemon's name is Aiko Miyazaki in this fic, but _only _to fit into the time period and setting. I'm only using her comics name because it's from some form of canon (although a very alternate one), _**not** _because I think it's her actual name in Disney's movie.

Also, Hiro is older in this fic, obviously, and is 18. So is GoGo, sort of. Note the "sort of", here. I imagine her as roughly 18 in canon, so she and Hiro would have a 4 year age gap. Here, she's 22 in accordance with said gap, but it's not canon as far as I know. And for convenience, most of the main characters are Japanese as they were in the comics (ex: Honey Lemon and Wasabi). Hiro and GoGo are still biracial and Korean, respectively, for plot purposes.

**Warning: **This fic will most likely get really cheesy and sappy and maybe a bit OOC (but I promise I'll do my best not to make it horribly, drastically OOC). Also, it has quite a lot of OCs (only there to be plot devices, though).

On another note, GoGo's name is Ethel according to a tweet by Jamie Chung (you can find the link for it on TV Tropes in Big Hero 6's trivia tab). However, for this fic's purposes, her name is different. Just a heads-up (unless you didn't see the tweet).

* * *

The morning air was uncomfortably cool, still moist with the rain from the night before. Leftover water, gathered in shallow puddles, splashed under GoGo's _geta_ sandals and onto the hem of her kimono as she carried a basket of laundry into the yard.

She set it down next to the washbasin and the stone for the fulling block, pushing back the dark gray _tenugui_ tied in a kerchief over her head with one hand. But she had barely finished scrubbing a shirt when a shrill voice pierced the air.

_"TOMAGO!"_

It was enough to send the birds scattering from the yard's trees, branches rattling in their wake. GoGo rolled her eyes, internally bracing herself as she soaked the cloth and began to wring it out.

Sure enough, a squat old woman in a green kimono came storming out of the house, a scowl in her wrinkled face and graying hair falling loose from her bun. Aunt Chinatsu—only considered an aunt through marriage to a distant cousin of GoGo's father—had clearly seen better days, and this was not one of them.

_"Where_ is Aiko's shamisen!? I know you've put it somewhere, you insolent girl, and you can't be so stupid as to have lost it like Momoe!" For such a small lady, Chinatsu had a voice loud enough to put even the most hot-blooded war cries of samurai to shame.

GoGo resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. "I put it in her room. With the fans. If you look th—"

"Speak to me like that again and you'll be going to bed hungry for the rest of the week, girl!" Chinatsu shouted. "I'll ask you only one more time: _where is Aiko's shamisen?"_

"In her _room," _GoGo repeated slowly. "With the _fans_._"_

If Chinatsu's face was any redder, GoGo thought it could be mistaken for a dried tomato. "Ungrateful tramp!" she spat. "I take you in out of the generosity of my heart, and what do I get? A spinster in the making!"

And of course, GoGo thought wryly, there she'd go again. She had heard this sort of tirade so many times before that she was sure at this point, she'd be the richest woman alive in Japan if she had a koban for each one. It'd be a waste of breath to talk back. Tuning it out, she pressed the shirt over the stone and reached for the fulling block.

"—twenty-two years and still no husband, no dowry! Why, your mother—"

The last two words were all it took. GoGo stiffened, not realizing the block was falling from her fingers until it had hit the ground. She whirled, taking in a short, stiff breath.

_"Don't._ Talk." She bit out the words, teeth clamped together. Without the cloth to hold onto, her fists clenched together hard enough for the knuckles to begin whitening. "About. My. _Mother_."

Something about her glare must have been enough for her, because it only took another brief, cold second for Chinatsu to blink and then turn away, excusing herself to interrogate Harumi and Sakura instead. GoGo watched her leave, almost stumbling once over her sandals before she slid the door closed behind her.

Shakily, GoGo let out a long breath. Then another, trying to calm down. Then a third, maybe a fourth, until she picked up the fulling block and began beating the cloth against the rock with it—maybe much harder and more viciously than usual.

It didn't matter what Chinatsu would've said about her mother, she told herself. What would Chinatsu know about what her mother would've thought? What did _anyone_ know?

This shirt, that dress. This dress, that shirt, then another shirt and another dress. It was merely another chord in the rhythm of chores that went around in the geisha household, and GoGo knew every note of it by ear.

Dimly, she could still hear some shouting in the house and what must have been the clattering of pots and sandals. But she tuned it out as she did with most things, trying to focus on anything else but Chinatsu—the vegetables that would have to be chopped, the market trips, the dish washing, making sure Momoe didn't forget her hairpins or the like.

Same routine, same time. GoGo knew it by heart.

With the gradually rising sun beating down on her back, it must have been noon by the time she was able to straighten up without having to bend back down again. Stretching out her arms and rolling her shoulders back, she would have surveyed her work if it weren't for the second interruption from the door—but far less unpleasant this time.

"GoGo?" Aiko, quite possibly the only geisha in the house who paid more than a passing glance in attention to GoGo, was leaning out of the halfway opened door. In her hand, GoGo realized, was the shamisen.

"You put my shamisen in my room, right?" Aiko's expression was more than a little sheepish. "Sorry about...that. I was just really kind of nervous and forgot it was there for a bit, because you know the performance for Yama is on tonight and I've got more paintings to make and if I don't have my shamisen then there's no performance and if there's no _performance_—"

"Aiko." GoGo cut her off simply. Aiko blinked before she grinned nervously, and GoGo had to smile back slightly. "I get it. It's okay to be nervous."

She picked up the fulling block, placing it against the stone. "You'll be great," she continued. "As always, remember?"

Aiko let out a laugh, although it still sounded nervous. "Yeah, I know—being nervous is natural," she admitted, briefly rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. "It's just—it's going to be really _big_, you know? My clients will be watching! I mean, how embarrassing would that be, if I, like, just...just dropped a _fan_, or something? I mean, come _on_..."

GoGo had heard this kind of self-deprecation prior to performances before. Normally, she turned a deaf ear to it as much as she could—it just sounded like fishing for compliments most of the time. With Aiko, however, it felt different—it felt sincere, all the rambling just another form of natural nervousness.

True, she couldn't see why anyone wouldn't want to pose for or buy Aiko's _ukiyo-e _woodblock prints—they could give several of the more famous painters a run for their money, in her opinion. And Aiko wasn't a bad dancer, either. Being taller and longer-legged than the other geishas only appeared to add to her sheer energy and exuberance when she performed. Her skin tone under her makeup, darker than what was considered normal, was a subject of some malicious gossip—but as far as GoGo was considered, that was all it was.

But Aiko wasn't snobbish or haughty. She had her share of self-doubts when she wasn't confident, and she had more at stake if she failed. GoGo had seen her at her weak places and seen her rise from them. This was only a small moment.

Aiko paused. "But...I can do this. Right?" She looked at her almost pleadingly.

_"Right." _GoGo had gone through this with her before. They'd known each other long enough.

"I've done this before," Aiko went on more firmly.

"And you'll do it again," GoGo responded.

"I can do this." Aiko's shoulders were set in determination.

"You can do this." GoGo reached out, gripping the other girl's shoulders. They stared at each other, faces set in resolution.

"I'm the woman," Aiko continued.

"You're the woman," GoGo agreed firmly.

"I'm the _WOMAN_!" Aiko screamed, flinging back her hands to throw them in the air and only barely avoiding dropping the shamisen.

_"Quiet!"_ Chinatsu's voice screeched from within the house. They paused before promptly dissolving into silent laughter—Aiko was noisier, but that wasn't the point. GoGo used her laughs sparingly, but it was impossible not to even crack one grin when around Aiko.

Aiko wiped the corner of her eye with one finger, still giggling slightly. "Okay, okay. That...that was good."

"You could've been louder," GoGo deadpanned, and Aiko playfully shoved her shoulder.

"...Hey, you know," Aiko commented lightly, "Yama's request came in really late last night. Chinatsu only accepted it because of the gift for the trouble."

To say GoGo was unsurprised was tantamount to saying water was wet. Chinatsu was one of the most opportunistic in doing business with in Shitamachi, to the point that her pouncing on chances for more profit could be compared easily to a cat with a fish.

"And?" GoGo raised an eyebrow. There had to be more to this.

Under her stare, Aiko suddenly looked gradually less comfortable with each passing second. She grinned nervously again, all white teeth exposed, and started to pluck at the strings on her shamisen. GoGo thought she would have started rocking back and forth on her heels if it weren't for her sandals.

"Well, I was...wondering," she went on, "if...okay, GoGo, hear me out on this. Ayame, and Harumi, and Sakura just left. And Momoe and Chouko went out _really_ early, you saw them go, right? And you know Edo's not as strict about geisha as Kyoto, and dressing as one temporarily. So, I still need someone to just...carry my fans, and my shamisen—"

"No." GoGo didn't even hesitate. Even with the relative laxness about geisha rules in Edo and the popularity of _onna geisha _nowadays, the idea of going through those too-bright, too-crowded halls where the shows were put on, stuck with crowds of always moving strangers, was enough to put her on edge. She'd never been good at social gatherings—but she wasn't _afraid _of them. She just hated having to go to them a lot of the time.

There were exceptions, but GoGo didn't know what those could be, mainly because she'd never gone to an actual social gathering in the first place. Contrary to what most of the geishas seemed to believe—she'd heard enough gossip from them about her to last two lifetimes—she didn't despise hairpins and pretty dresses. It was less about hatred and more about simply not caring when there was work to be done and Chinatsu's shouting to evade.

"GoGo, _please_, you're the only one left here who can go with me!" Aiko practically pleaded. "All the other servants are busy, or they're too old or too young to be an apprentice _just _for tonight, or they don't know about the shows like you and they might get lost or hurt, and—it's only one night, GoGo! _One night_—"

"I'm not going." GoGo's voice was flat. "You are _not _putting me in that—_those_ clothes. Or that makeup."

She knew Aiko wouldn't be pleading in the first place if it wasn't for the new trend with the _onna geisha_—namely, the one that involved the geisha's apprentice carrying her instrument and fans for her to highlight her experience and skill in her work. With such high-ranked clients like Yama Manabu, they needed every sign of good status they could get.

"It's only one night!" Aiko clasped her hands together, or as closely as you could with a shamisen's neck in one of your hands. "Please, _please_, GoGo, just one night and I swear I'll never, ever bother you about this again! I promise!"

GoGo sighed. "Aiko—"

_"Please_?" It hadn't taken even more than a minute for Aiko to look barely a step away from falling on her knees and prostrating herself. "I promise. I swear. I really promise!"

As much as GoGo hated to admit it, even if only to herself, this could be her only chance at taking a break from work for a little bit. How could she waste it? It would at least be a change from what she did every day.

Besides, she had to confess that the idea of pushing against rules was far more than a little appealing—even if those were only really in Kyoto. Here in Edo, they were more relaxed in _practice_, but it did still sound an awful lot like a thrill.

"Well." GoGo paused. "_So_. You promise?"

"_Yes_!" Aiko stared at her so imploringly, it could put a puppy's eyes to shame. Even GoGo was starting to doubt if she was tough enough to endure more of that.

"Okay. I'm in." The moment the words left GoGo's mouth, Aiko swept her up into an embrace and _swung _her off of the ground. GoGo couldn't even protest as Aiko's arms wrapped tightly enough around her to crush.

"Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou_thankyou!"_ Aiko gushed, squeezing even harder and starting GoGo's wondering if it was seriously possible for one to be asphyxiated by a hug. "You won't regret this, I swear! It'll be so awesome and I can show you everything about it and maybe we can meet up with Harumi and Ayame, they could be there! Or Momoe, or Sakura, or Momoe _and_ Sakura and maybe Chouko—"

"Aiko!" GoGo choked out. "Kind of—trying—breathe—!"

"Oh!" Aiko released her just as quickly, letting her back on her feet. "Sorry about that, I'm just—this is just _amazing!_ We're actually going together! I'll help you get ready first, you're going to look great!"

_"Only _one night," GoGo reminded her pointedly as they headed back into the house, Aiko nearly skipping. Inwardly, GoGo was seriously debating if this was a good idea. She didn't care so much about the risks of getting caught impersonating a geisha—rules didn't intimidate _GoGo Tomago_, of all people—but acting like one in the first place sounded..._well_. She couldn't remember the last time she'd dressed up in anything nicer than her current brown dress and gray kerchief, for starters.

"Aiko!" Chinatsu barked, and GoGo could've sworn she said it the very moment their feet had touched the floor. "An hour till your show, and you still aren't ready. GoGo, help her dress!"

"Oh, uh, actually," Aiko began a little sheepishly, "GoGo's coming with me. To carry my, um, shamisen. And fans."

There was a very pregnant pause. If Chinatsu's jaw had dropped any inch further, GoGo thought, it would've hit the ground. "But—but why not take Harumi?"

"Harumi just left," GoGo put in dryly. "With Sakura and Ayame—"

"Oh, alright, alright!" Chinatsu's expression changed almost immediately, shaking her head in exasperation as she waved her hand. It'd be startling to anyone else who didn't know how she ran things—with Aiko being the only one in the house to hail from a place as fine as Kyoto, Chinatsu couldn't exactly afford to refuse what she wanted. If anything, GoGo thought, Aiko only stayed because she wanted to. If she left, it wouldn't be hard for her to find other lodgings.

"Just get dressed," Chinatsu added crossly, turning to bustle away, "and hurry, for heaven's sake! And don't do anything embarrassing."

The last part was specifically directed at one of the two, and they both knew whom she was addressing.

* * *

"And...there."

GoGo blinked.

In the mirror was another person entirely. Her face had been powdered white enough to make snow appear silver in comparison, her eyelashes now dark as charcoal and her lips painted a dark shade of red. Atop her head was her short, choppy hair tied together into a small twist, kept into place by two iris hairpins. The kimono, the silk heavy on her skin, was violet and embroidered with white and lavender flowers. The obi sash, to complete it, was palest gray.

Every inch a geisha.

"...Well, I look...nice," GoGo managed to say, if only for lack of anything else she could think of.

"Exactly!" Aiko pushed back a strand of her own hair, grinning widely. "But not just nice. You look great!"

Aiko was already dressed and ready to go for her performance, her hair pinned up with plum blossom hairpins. Her kimono was magenta, complete with a pale pink obi sash and patterned with more plum blossoms. Both of them looked far from out of place as geishas, but GoGo couldn't have felt more like a fish out of water.

"We should really get going," Aiko added, a little anxiously. "Come on—to the Yoshiwara!"

She handed her the _shamisen_, now wrapped in thick coverings that would protect it from water, and the pair of closed fans. GoGo managed to hold on to them tightly, feeling a little silly, while they both hurried towards the entrance and into the streets.

* * *

In the noise and chatter of the perpetually busy district, Aiko wove her way in and out around vendors and pedestrians and the like as an expert would. Behind her, trying to stay as close as possible and constantly dodging people, GoGo walked quickly while clutching the fans and instrument as if her life depended on it. Which, in a way, it did—if Chinatsu ever caught news of her ruining a geisha's belongings, GoGo would be tossed out onto the street faster than one could say "apprentice geisha".

With every step, however, GoGo was losing more confidence in the whole idea of the thing than dropping or damaging what she was carrying. It wasn't _fear_, of course it wasn't—_yeah, right_, a voice in her head sneered—but the more they walked, the more stupid the concept of her pretending to be a geisha sounded. She didn't even have the nationality of a geisha, for crying out loud. How had she let Aiko talk her into this?

_The pleading_ _and the puppy eyes. Obviously_, that same voice snapped.

"Aiko, just—how am I going to do this?" The words came rushing out of her before she could stop them, as incredulous as she felt. "_How?"_

"All you have to do is sit and watch," Aiko replied. Her walk seemed to becoming a little faster. "I swear, that's all. You're just going to act like an apprentice. That's what they do."

"Okay, what if a man comes up and starts flirting with me?" GoGo questioned, annoyance creeping into her voice. The way Aiko put it sounded far too easy, and if GoGo knew one thing about life, it was that the simplest-sounding task could easily get so complicated it'd go horribly wrong.

"You make really polite conversation and then excuse yourself," Aiko answered easily, ducking a vendor's pole as she went. "Like—uh. Literature! Yes, literature. Talk about poetry trends. The classics. Things like that."

"Aiko, I haven't read poetry in years," GoGo said wryly, ducking as well.

"Then you can't fail with the classics! Make things up, it's not like they've actually read them all either." Aiko turned the corner and onto the bridge that would lead to Yoshiwara, sandals clacking against the wooden planks as she walked.

"What if he's drunk?" GoGo continued, following.

"Just say you have to go to the lavatory, or something like that, and slip away," was Aiko's response. "Take it easy. He won't remember it in the morning when he's got the hangover."

"I can hope," GoGo muttered in response. Aiko gave no indication of whether or not she'd heard, but GoGo suspected she had.

Once at the gate, they got into line behind other performers as needed. The line wasn't quite as long as GoGo had anticipated, something she wasn't sure if she was disappointed by or not. There were geishas in groups or pairs, a few troops of male dancers with costumes and painted faces, a noisy party of nobles accompanied by samurai bodyguards—all enough for quite a clustered line.

Inexplicably, as they stood there, GoGo's fingers beginning to lose feeling from holding on to the _shamisen _and fans so tightly, she thought of her mother. What would she think if she could see her there now, waiting in a line to get into a pleasure district?

It felt less like a genuine thing to wonder about and more like an internal reprimand. GoGo briefly squeezed her eyes shut. Thinking of her mother really wasn't going to do her any good right now.

Yet, she still did. She thought of her mother when the guards, after glancing over Aiko's invitation paper and token for passage, waved her on without even sparing GoGo a glance. She initially realized the customary weapons check was skipped over because of their gender, at least before remembering her _eunjangdo_—the only possession she had left from her mother. She still had it wrapped in a cloth in her quarters.

She thought of her mother when they entered the district, and Aiko whispered for her to stay close—as if GoGo needed any reminder—before they passed down the street below the seemingly dead eyes of the young women on display, sitting behind the wooden bars of windows to brothels. She thought of what her mother would say, how she would pity them as if pity could actively help them, when she averted her eyes.

She wondered how Aiko could have the patience for being here. GoGo wasn't sure if she'd want to set foot in a place like this in normal circumstances, no matter how much money she was promised. A few men not so discreetly ogled them as they passed, eyes raking over them from head to toe in a manner unnerving enough to make her flesh crawl. She glared at them as menacingly as she could, but they were either too drunk to care or not looking at her face to see it. Or her glare wasn't menacing enough somehow, but she didn't like to think that.

Aiko, for her part, seemed to be pushing herself very deliberately to ignore everything but the path to their destination—there was no smile on her face now, no words of reassurance from her. She knew more than any of the geishas at Chinatsu's house about how this place was.

The sound of festivity and revelry from within the brightly lit banquet hall was easy to hear from outside in the street, and even more so as Aiko and GoGo stepped up to the entrance. The sign hung near the door read, in a slightly crude inscription, "Shining Mountains".

Aiko showed her invitation to the guard, and they were in.

* * *

And that wraps up the first chapter! Next chapter, Hiro shows up with Fred, Wasabi, and Baymax. Yes, Baymax. He'll show up in a different way, but it's still him.

A list of the Japanese and Korean vocabulary I used:

**Geta: **A type of traditional Japanese wooden sandal, with a raised base.

**Tenugui: **A cotton hand towel, often used as a washcloth, dishcloth, headwear, or a decoration.

**Shamisen: **A wooden string instrument, which was frequently played by geishas.

**Koban: **An oval-shaped gold coin, used as currency in the Edo/Tokugawa period.

**Fulling block: **A wooden mallet used to beat washed laundry during the Edo era.

**Eunjangdo: **A type of silver knife used by Korean women for self-defense.

**Onna geisha: **Term for female geisha.

Please review!


	2. A Night Out

And here it is! Finally, the second chapter. Needless to say, real life got in the way a lot. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to those who faved and followed without reviewing...drop a line, please? I'd really like to know what you think.

I also modified some things from the previous chapter to fit in line with my current plan for the story. It's a minor change, but I decided GoGo's weapon would be better as an _eunjangdo_, a Korean knife, than a _kaiken _because she's still Korean in this story and I want to emphasize that.

Another character will also be showing up, but she's comics-exclusive. Her first name's different, but that's about it. ;D

Also, I forgot to mention: all names will be written in Eastern order, surname before first name, because of the setting.

* * *

_Thwack__!_

The wooden blade came down through the air, only to be blocked by Hiro's. He held the sword tightly against the other before pushing back. Although the push wasn't enough to send it completely off, it worked how he wanted it to—Fred gave a little ground, and Hiro struck.

_Thwack! Thwack!_ He pulled back and swung the wood sword downwards for a spot between his forearm and shoulder that would be fatal if in combat with the actual blades. Fred deflected it, but barely.

"_Nice!_" Fred commented, grinning. "Man, you're really getting better!"

Hiro grinned back, pausing only to push his bangs away from his eyes. "Thanks! You're not bad yourself."

He swung again, this time aiming lower and moving faster. Fred moved almost just as quickly to deflect it, but the blow landed off of his side.

"_OH!_" Fred cried dramatically. He dropped to the ground, sword falling from his hands as he raised his arms theatrically and started alternating between flailing them in the air and clutching his side. "Oh, the mighty Fredzilla, warrior of the people, has finally fallen! How will he recover from this crushing _DEFEAT_ at the hands of the cunning Lord Hamada?! The injustice! The _tragedy_!"

He started flopping on the courtyard ground with each word, thrashing about like a fish. Hiro couldn't contain his laughter—it was hard to after a typical day of training, when his arms and back were starting to burn, and it was the point of day when Fred would find a way to act up.

"Another victory for _Lord Hamada_, then," he said in a mock-haughty voice, although the effect was somewhat negated by his snickering. He lay down his sword and picked up a piece of cloth, wiping his hands clean with it.

"Don't be so heartless, Hiro," Fred gasped out melodramatically, swinging his legs up in the air along with his arms. "A warrior is _dying_ because of you!"

"Are you two playing theater again?" It was at that moment Wasabi chose to make his appearance by poking his head out of the sliding paper doors opening to the courtyard, eyebrow raised. His tone seemed directed at Fred in particular.

"Maybe!" Fred replied cheerfully, hands still clutching at his side. "You should really join us sometime! Makes sword practice more fun, right?"

"For you, probably," Wasabi answered dryly. He turned to Hiro. "Krei's leaving in the next hour with his party. We're going to have to hurry if we want to get to the Yoshiwara on time."

"Wait, the next _hour_?" Hiro started in disbelief, dropping the cloth. "But Krei—"

"Busy man, apparently," Wasabi replied, and Hiro sensed distinctly that he wanted to roll his eyes. "But you know him. Let's go! You too, party member."

"Don't mind me if I do." Fred jumped back on his feet, stumbling only slightly as he moved to follow the samurai back into the palace. Hiro was close behind.

* * *

The evening began as efficiently as it could have. Several samurai went to accompany the nobles, with Alistair Krei at the head. The man was a particularly affluent trader with the luck to get in the good graces of Japanese nobles and enough influence to be able to leave Dejima sometimes. With the trips to Edo, Dutchmen like Krei were required to bring novelties to the shogunate in a kind of private trade and give updates on international events. Fred was the only other Dutch man with him, if only because they were somewhat acquainted with each other through Fred's father and there was still a strict limit to the amount of Dutch people here.

Once all had been accounted for, they had set off down the hill to Shitamachi. But it probably hadn't been more than half an hour when the nobles started to get rowdy. Some had apparently been drinking before they'd even left.

Needless to say, Hiro thought as he watched a samurai help up his particularly tipsy charge, it was a good thing they didn't need horses for the trip.

Compared to the rest of the samurai, especially Wasabi, Hiro was an amateur. Wasabi—formally known as Daiki Gushiken—was one of the older and more experienced samurai, knowing the most about the importance of discipline in training, and had been a friend of...well. There was some defamatory gossip behind his back about his dark complexion, but no one would dare have the nerve to say any of it to his face. Hiro didn't think he'd met anyone else who adhered so rigidly to the code of the shogunate, but then again, Hiro hadn't met a lot of samurai beyond this place.

Or Dutch people, for that matter. Fred was an unusual case—it wasn't every day that a wealthy Dutch merchant's son accompanied his father on his visits with the shogunate, especially with the strict enforcement of limitations on contact between the Japanese and the Dutch traders hanging over them. It was even more unusual for a wealthy Dutch merchant's son to enjoy learning the use of a sword, albeit wooden, in practice with a samurai in training when he did visit, and for him to be able to speak Japanese surprisingly well enough on his own.

Hiro liked seeing him around, though. It was nice to have a chance to just hang out with someone and occasionally goof off with sword practice, after _that_ had all started when Fred had asked him before they started if it was true the samurai had swords that shot magic fire out of their blades and if it was true, it was _really cool_.

If only it was as easy as that.

Samurai were only protectors under laws that kept them bound as firmly as a bird in a cage. They were not supposed to wonder about the world beyond or what else could be done outside of the established rules. The rules, the unchanging codes, all of it seemed to become more stifling the more Hiro went in his training. His brother, Tadashi, had been a _hatamoto _famous for his skill, his courage, for being almost a living ideal.

Of course, those who had held him up as that had never known Tadashi like Hiro had, maybe not even Wasabi. But thinking of him only brought up the ache somewhere in his chest that had never actually left, and he tried to push away the thoughts. He needed to focus.

"Hey, you okay?" Hiro gave a start, looking over at Fred. He looked as flippant as usual, assembled in somewhat nicer clothes than he usually wore, but his brow was slightly furrowed. "You've got that 'serious thinking face' on again."

"'Serious thinking face'?" Hiro repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, that face where you're like _this_." Fred made an imitation of his expression, drawing his eyebrows together tightly and sticking his bottom lip out in a huge pout, for only a second before reverting. "So, what's up?"

Hiro stifled a laugh. "Nothing, really. It's fine. I was just...thinking," he added a little lamely.

Fred clearly didn't buy it, but to his credit, he left it alone. Instead, he kept up a steady stream of chatter about the new trades that had come in at the ports where he lived with his parents, while Hiro half-listened, up until they had reached the brightly lit district. At the gates, there were the usual arriving regulars: a few troops of costumed dancers, _kabuki _actors, groups and pairs of geisha, other kinds of performers that were currently popular. Hiro could never really keep track of what was in fashion and what wasn't.

He glanced around. Those nearest to them were a pair of geisha, a lanky one in a magenta kimono and a shorter one with a wrapped _shamisen_ and a pair of fans in her arms. The shorter one closed her eyes briefly, and Hiro found himself staring. She didn't look younger than the geisha she was accompanying, not as young as other apprentices he'd seen, and yet she looked just as nervous.

"Hey, what're you staring at?" Fred was looking at him curiously. Hiro nearly jumped.

"Nothing," he said a little hastily, turning around. But when he turned back a moment later to look again, they were both gone.

"Saw a girl you like?" Fred grinned at him, arching his eyebrows. Hiro gave a scoff, although not too loudly in the samurai's earshot, as he handed over his sword at the customary weapons check. Hopefully it wouldn't take too much longer than usual, considering how many members in the party there were.

"Come on, save it for later when we're actually in." One of the guards was handling the weapons, while the other was examining the invitation. Krei was speaking imperiously, but Hiro doubted they were actually listening. But at long last, the guards waved them on and they entered through the gates.

The Yoshiwara acted as an outlet beyond the regulations and the rigidity of Edo, where anyone and everyone was free to take their pleasure as long as they had the money for it. A commoner could be served as a noble's equal, and people of all classes came and went as they pleased. Vendors of all kinds hawked their wares for them, ranging from herbal concoctions to foreign tonics, in the bustling streets. There were numerous options for a guest in the Yoshiwara: tea houses, banquet halls, _okiya _houses, brothels.

The old guard frowned upon the nobility and samurai frequenting the pleasure district, as they frowned upon quite a bit of what the nobility and samurai already did. Then again, that might have only added to its popularity. Every samurai Hiro knew or had known had been here of his own accord at least once.

Well, almost.

Hiro decided not to reflect further on it.

They soon arrived at _Shining Mountains_, one of the finer banquet halls and the largest available one that Yama Manabu had booked. The place was alive with revelry and noise, brightly lit by dozens of colorful lanterns and spacious with clean straw mats spread across the floor. Numerous courtesans in opulent kimonos had settled in comfortably among the guests, offering drinks and platters of numerous small snacks with their graceful flirtations. A cursory glance at the festivities was enough to tell that Nakagawa was a man who spared no expense when it came to nights of high spirits.

"Look who finally came!" Yama hailed them loudly, giving a wave from where he sat with several cups of rice wine set before him. Beside him, a _tayu_ courtesan in scarlet and gold was pouring another cup. A plump, big-boned man with thinning hair, he was draped in a deep blue kimono already marked with a few dark stains from drinks. "You're nearly late! And Alistair! Why, I never thought I'd see you here again!"

"Our apologies, Manabu," Krei replied smoothly, in almost perfect Japanese. Hiro didn't think he knew any other Dutchman who was on first-name basis with high-ranked nobles like Yama. "It really has been a while—too long, really! Some of us already started drinking on the way here, can you believe that?"

"Only started?" Yama roared with laughter. "Let's finish here, then! Have some more wine, my friends!"

The _tayu_, accompanied by a pair of younger _hashi-joro _robed in bright blue and pink silks, offered them drinks. Hiro declined, trying to keep close to Fred as the party began to settle in and intermingle with the rest of the guests. Fred accepted a cup of wine, finishing it in not even a second before taking another.

The timing was almost impeccable. It hadn't been more than a few minutes before a geisha, _shamisen_ in hand, appeared on the stage at the front of the banquet hall. It was the same geisha he'd seen at the entrance gates, Hiro realized. She gave a bow before speaking.

"Honored patrons, I present to you the _Ballad of Fuyuzakura_," she announced, before sitting down and starting to play.

As the song began, he spotted a familiar face near the stage—one he hadn't seen in a while. He gave a start, blinking to make sure he had seen correctly. But it was moving away, out towards the doors. Hiro couldn't help wondering what exactly he was doing here.

He glanced over at Fred, then at Wasabi. Fred was watching the geisha, absentmindedly sipping at another cup of wine. Wasabi was standing near the door, alert but looking elsewhere. He muttered an excuse into Fred's ear about having to use the lavatory, although he didn't think Fred heard a word of it, before he slipped away and began to follow an old friend he hadn't spoken to in too long.

When he went outside, he stepped into the large garden shared by the neighboring banquet hall. Tall, thin trees bordered the edges, leaves on their branches rather than cherry blossoms because of the season. Irises bloomed near a goldfish pond, which was where Hiro found him standing with an also familiar girl in a light pink kimono.

"Hiro!" Mariko noticed him first, beaming. Before Hiro could reply, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Long time no see! How's training been going?"

"Oh—could be better, could be worse, y'know," Hiro replied in a way he hoped was nonchalant. He looked over her shoulder. "Hey, Baku."

"Hello, Hiro." Baku looked as he always had, tall and round and pale in a clean white kimono. He never seemed to wear anything but white—Hiro could count the number of times he'd seen him in other colors on one hand. Baku wasn't his real name, but that was what everyone called him after Tadashi had come up with the nickname. "Are you well?"

He gave a shrug as casually as he could when Mariko let go of him. "I've...been good," he replied carefully, because Baku was giving him _that look_—the one that seemed to be scanning everything about him, down to the smallest detail. Baku had a knack for that kind of thing, which probably contributed to his reputation as an ideal doctor and medicine practitioner. "What about you?"

"I have been well," Baku answered. "I was visiting to see Mariko. I received her letter about returning here before continuing to travel."

"Baku was telling me about his latest visit to Nagasaki," Mariko interjected. "Those Dutch doctors have a lot of weird ideas, I'll tell you that much. I saw some translations of their medicine books, and trust me, you wouldn't believe what they can come up with, but it's still really interesting!"

"I'll bet it is." Hiro's heart sank a little, pangs of envy nagging at him. They both—Baku, especially—knew how much he wanted to go to Nagasaki for _rangaku_, for a taste of the outside world. It wasn't unheard of for samurai to take up "Dutch studies", so he wouldn't have a problem if he was allowed to go. He'd always had a weakness for the new and the unexplored, and he still did, even after...

He didn't look at Baku. "So, Mariko, what brought you back here? Are you staying for a while?"

Mariko paused to brush a strand of brown hair back behind her ear. "I've been traveling, so I just thought I'd stop by and see some clients, stay with the Matsumotos for a few days, and—well, I wanted to see you and Baku, too."

She sounded a little sheepish as she added on the last part. With her father passed on to join her mother and her eldest cousin now firmly the head of the Iosama clan, it had been easy for her to move on from Edo and establish a career in _haikai _poetry, storytelling, and arts of calligraphy and painting. She was always seeking out new audiences as one of the traveling artists, the kind who went alone and took refuge with local elite families wherever they stayed.

It wasn't unusual for her to drop by Edo every once in a while like this, but Hiro wasn't always able to see her whenever she did. They'd known each other when they were younger—not so young that they were little, but somewhere around the area where they'd been awkward preteens. At one point, a long time ago, there'd been serious talks between his parents and her father about arranging for them to marry. But his parents had died before they'd really gone anywhere.

Sometimes, Hiro still found himself wondering about what could have been and what his parents would ultimately have decided if they'd survived. He'd had a crush on Mariko when they had met, but he'd never been able to imagine getting married, let alone to her. It wasn't any different now, although he knew there'd be a day when he'd have to take a wife as was expected of him—and dreaded it.

"By the way," Mariko added thoughtfully, "did you come with Krei? I didn't know he'd be the kind to go to shows like this."

An unpleasant sensation uncurled in Hiro's stomach. It was hardly a secret that men of nobility, being the ones able to afford the services of courtesans, rarely stayed faithful to the women they married. Half of the patrons here, he thought, probably had wives and children at home. Krei, as far as he knew, had neither.

"Yeah, I did," Hiro answered. "He's one of the Dutch merchants, it's not really a surprise he'd want to see whatever's here—before the shogunate decide they don't want foreigners having more freedom than they already do, anyway."

"I guess that's true," Mariko admitted. "But I suppose I can't really comment on that. It _is _business."

"Business that they're always happy to pay for," Hiro muttered. Maybe he had more in common with the old guard than he'd thought.

Even when he talked under his breath, Mariko could hear him. "I try to think of it differently," she commented. "It brings in the revenue, and that's what's important for performers. Don't dwell on it too much, Hiro, you'll start looking grouchy again, and a grouchy man isn't a marriageable one!"

She added the last part in a mock-scolding tone, and Hiro found himself cracking a smile. Baku nodded in agreement.

"Negative moods are known to be a major factor in failing marriages," Baku said, and it was one of those times Hiro couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"It doesn't matter whether or not it fails, anyway," Hiro said dryly. "Aunt Katsuko just wants me to marry a nice girl, but you know what Wasabi's going to say. It's not practical, even if he personally wants the same thing."

"Grouchy again." Mariko shook her head in pretend shame, but Hiro knew she was just as aware as he was of how marriage worked for samurai. It was customary for a senior samurai to choose a bride for a respective lower-ranked one, especially if said lower-ranked one was the younger brother of the former's own comrade.

After a moment's pause, she frowned slightly. "What about Nagasaki? You...you still want to go for _rangaku_, right?"

Her voice began to waver hesitantly, her words a little slower, as if she thought she was walking a very thin line and she was starting to regret what she was talking about. Hiro's chest hurt. "Uh, well...yeah. But Aunt Katsuko keeps saying maybe next year, or in two years."

The three of them very well knew why she was so reluctant to let him go, and in the ensuing silence, Hiro suddenly found the goldfish pond the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. His eyes fixed in particular on an especially small, yellow fish that was swimming frantically around in sloppy circles.

"Well," Mariko finally said awkwardly, after a few far too lengthy moments, "I have to go. Can't let clients wait too long, you know...I'll see you later, Hiro, Baku. It really was nice seeing you."

Her voice sounded pained, a little higher pitched than usual, even though Hiro knew she was being sincere about the last part. He only nodded. He knew she was looking at him, and he didn't want to see her expression.

There was a rustle of cotton as she moved away, and he finally glanced up to see her leave, slipping back in through the doors. He didn't look at Baku.

Baku spoke. "Hiro," he began, more softly now.

"I have to go, too," he said abruptly. "Sorry, Baku. It was good to see you."

Without another word, with something burning at his eyes, Hiro turned on his heel and headed back towards the hall. He didn't look back, but he could practically feel Baku's gaze piercing through him up until he reached the doors.

As he walked through the corridor towards the main hall, from where he could hear the sound of a new tune being played, he passed by a geisha in a purple kimono. It took a second, startled glance for him to realize that it was the same one he'd seen at the gate. She looked up, and her gaze met his. In the light, her dark eyes appeared tinged with gold.

Hiro blinked, and she stiffened, immediately dipping her head into a bow before hurrying away. Hiro watched her go, and it took a few more moments until he realized he was still staring down the corridor long after she had gone.

He entered the hall, searching out Fred through the crowd. By now, Fred was positively tipsy and started slurring something to him about how much better the food here was than at Dejima, but Hiro couldn't make out a word of it. He tried to focus on watching the performer, now accompanied by another, dancing on stage with their flower-patterned fans fluttering around them.

But those golden-tinged eyes stayed firmly in the back of his mind.

* * *

Vocabulary:

**Haikai **\- A kind of satirical and pun-based poetry.

**Hashi-joro - **A low-ranking courtesan.

**Okiya **\- A lodging house for geisha.

**Tayu **\- The highest rank of a courtesan.

Keep in mind that this fic isn't meant to be totally historically accurate and will take artistic license for the story, as already evidenced here. There are also anachronisms, as the mentioned medicine books from Nagasaki were only recorded around the 1700s and the general time frame for this fic is somewhere around the 1640s. However, I'll try to keep it to a minimum.

Yes, Mariko Iosama is Marys Iosama. She was a love interest to Hiro in the original comic, which I wanted to allude to with the crush and possible arranged marriage aspects. Aunt Katsuko is Aunt Cass, since Katsuko was the closest Japanese equivalent to Cass I could find, and Baku is...well, I think it's obvious who he is. I hope it is, anyway.

Reviews are appreciated!


	3. A Night Finished

...Yeah, I have no excuse for this being so late other than, well, real life. Again.

Well, at least 2016 isn't ending us. Yet.

(Also, Harumi and Ayame are OCs, if it wasn't already obvious.)

* * *

Pretending to be an apprentice geisha had been easier than GoGo had thought it would be, once they had actually gotten in. The most she had done so far was help Aiko powder her hands, as dry hands were a necessity for playing the _shamisen_, and then sit and watch quietly from a corner, which she already did a lot on her own anyway.

The banquet hall was a ruckus of noise and light, with the courtesans' perfumes and the smells from food and _sake _mixing to make a headache-creating combination. If this was bad enough, she could only imagine having to be in places like this for hours on end every night and having to get used to it. She'd never been up close to festivities like these before, but she apparently hadn't been missing much. When it came down to it, it was just a bunch of rich men talking and lolling around and getting drunk off their heads than actually paying attention to the performances. But the key word was that it was _rich _men, men from noble families and descendants of the old guard, and that was enough to make these things important.

She took her time observing the guests from her spot near the stage, as Aiko sang out a ballad of the pale cherry blossoms that bloomed with the falling autumn leaves and into the hardiness of winter. The host was Yama Manabu, a wealthy man who, according to Aiko, held raucous parties in only the largest and finest of halls. As a result, he was always rather generous in his payments. He was also the client for her work, as he'd been known to have a taste for the kind of art Aiko made.

There were some Dutchmen from Dejima in attendance, an extraordinarily rare occurrence that Yama was treating as perfectly normal. But one of the Dutchmen was Krei, and everyone knew his reputation well enough. GoGo could see him near a corner of the hall, sitting with the host and throwing his head back in laughter at some joke while drinks were set before them.

Aiko had told her about the other geisha here. Apparently, Momoe, Sakura, and Chouko weren't here after all, but Harumi and Ayame were. There were also some others Aiko was acquainted with, including a traveling storyteller named Mariko and a pair of more well-known sisters, Eriko and Akina, who were making the rounds these days. Rumor had it that Eriko was a witch who possessed a kind of bond with the winter, but GoGo took all of that with a grain of salt. Anyone could come up with anything nowadays.

She needed to slip away. Just for a few minutes, she told herself. She needed a breath of fresh air, or else at this rate, she'd pass out. Slowly, she got to her feet and pushed herself out the door, sliding it shut behind her, and into the hall.

Now, GoGo thought as she looked back and forth down the corridor, where was the exit?

She started to walk, glancing a little wildly back and forth to keep an eye out for anyone who'd intercept her. Aiko probably wouldn't be too worried if she was gone for only a few minutes; she'd understand she needed to take a break. Or she'd think GoGo had needed to use the lavatory. Either way, she'd be back soon. Hopefully, if she didn't get lost first in this never-ending maze of corridors.

The only person she passed in the hall was a young man, some samurai from the guard. When she looked up, their eyes met, and the first thing she noticed was how his bangs fell just above his eyes. Inexplicably, she thought of how strange that was. Wouldn't the hair get in the way?

He blinked, and she stiffened. _Shit_. She couldn't start polite conversation like a proper geisha would, and how could she talk to a samurai, of all people? Clumsily, quickly, she bowed her head and went on her way a little quicker than normal. Any faster, and she'd trip over her sandals.

It was only minutes later, long after the samurai was out of sight, that she started to slow down and breathe. _Breathe, _GoGo thought. No use in panicking and doing something stupid. He wouldn't remember her anyway, it was only a second in the hall. It didn't matter.

She turned a corner in the hall, pushing open a sliding door. Outside was a garden, clear and illuminated by the moonlight. Ornamental trees framed the place, with irises surrounding the goldfish pond at the center. Before it stood a tall, rather large man robed in pure white, who was looking up at the sky and seemed to be in deep thought.

It would probably be best if she didn't bother him. GoGo doubted she could make small talk with anyone in the state she was right now. She turned away, sliding the door shut. Maybe she could find an empty guest's room, stay there for a bit to savor the quiet before going back. Or the lavatory, if she had no other option.

She wound her way down another corridor that split off from the hall, glancing at the doors. Another turn, and she heard...noises. Rather long, loud ones, from what sounded like a man and a woman.

Well, she certainly wasn't going to be using _that_ room.

It took what must have been at least a full five minutes of walking before she heard other noises, more welcome ones, that sounded like familiar voices. But she hadn't even taken more than a step towards the door when it was abruptly pushed open and two young geisha women, heavily attired in fine silks with their hair pinned up by ornaments and their faces painted in makeup, made their way out of it.

"—and I _told _you, Harumi, of course Aiko was going to be here, she's a client of Yama's," the taller, willowy geisha in teal was saying coolly to the younger one in red. Ayame was one of the older geisha, her experience and skill on par with—if not beyond—Aiko's. She was known by clients for the bandage slung over her missing eye, which served as her trademark, and rumors swirled around how she'd lost said eye and where she'd exactly come from. Not even any of the other geisha knew, since she hardly spoke to any of them outside of preparation for performances.

"But I didn't see who was going with her!" Harumi argued, adjusting the _kanzashi _pins of wisteria in her piled-up hair. "She doesn't have an apprentice, last time I checked, and we all went out before she did—"

It was Ayame who noticed her first. She visibly gave a start before, to GoGo's surprise, smiling. "Ah, hello, GoGo! Aiko chose you as her apprentice for tonight, did she?"

GoGo blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. What could she say to that? Harumi, at least, seemed to be mirroring her expression. She was only gaping in disbelief, her jaw hanging, her hands frozen on top of her head in the middle of tightening her hairpins.

"Yes, she did," GoGo finally managed as shortly as she could, trying for a level tone. She gave a brief bow, as was expected of her. "Good evening, Ayame, Harumi. I take it business is well for you here?"

"It could be better, could be worse, but it's alright," Ayame replied casually. She glanced at Harumi and raised her eyebrow. "Close your mouth, dear. You'll catch flies."

Now Harumi shut her mouth, though not without a glare at Ayame before turning back to GoGo. "How on earth did Chinatsu let you go?" she asked incredulously.

"Aiko just had to tell her she wanted to take me, and that was it," GoGo answered a little stiffly. "You know how the old lady's like with Aiko."

"Maybe she wanted to save some money," Harumi muttered. "Wouldn't put it past her."

It sounded like what GoGo had thought earlier, but there'd be no point in her saying so.

"Oh, I don't doubt that would've happened," Ayame commented airily. "Well, Harumi and I are about to go back for a second performance to join Aiko and that other geisha. Then I suppose that'll be it. How's being an apprentice going? Would you want to perform with us?"

"No," GoGo said flatly, and maybe she was just imagining it, but Harumi's expression now looked a little relieved. Not that GoGo could blame her for it. "I couldn't if I wanted to. I don't fit in this kind of place."

"A lot of people don't." Ayame shrugged. "We should get going, Harumi. Yama's not paying for nothing."

* * *

Once back in the banquet hall, GoGo had decided she had been wrong. A breath of fresh air hadn't cleared her head of all the noise and fumes. If anything, it'd only made the whole thing worse because she'd reminded herself what clear air and quiet were like.

She took her place in the corner again, settling herself on a scarlet cushion. Aiko was now plucking the strings on her _shamisen_ again and singing a ballad of tragic lovers separated in the stars, creating a tune as Harumi and Ayame danced across the stage with their own fans twirling around them. By now, the party seemed to have reached the point where it had passed the peak and was winding down. Some men had started dozing and were being carried out by servants to sleep off their drunkenness in other rooms. Others were flirting with the courtesans, engaged in chatter, or drinking some more and helping themselves to numerous kinds of _wagashi_.

The host, Yama, seemed the most different from earlier. He was alternating from drinking from his often refilled cup and glaring at something, though GoGo couldn't tell what. It could be one of the guests, though she couldn't make out which one in particular, or it was one of the geisha on stage. Aiko, maybe, which GoGo only thought of because he was her client and he probably wasn't pleased about something in what she was doing right now.

Krei had moved away from him by now, playing _mekuri karuta _with some other guests in a corner and occasionally flirting with the _tayu _courtesan dressed in red and gold. Or at least, it looked like flirting. Smiling and casually touching and apparently having the other person giggle counted as flirting, didn't it? It probably said something about him as a person or the guests in terms of drunkenness that no one seemed to care about what was normally seen as scandalous.

As the hour dragged on, one minute after the other, GoGo leaned her head back against the wall, absentmindedly looking back and forth between the geisha on stage and the guests in the hall. The courtesans seemed a lot slower-moving now, too, most either just sitting with the guests or gossiping with each other. One was sitting in a guest's lap as he fondled her, both of them apparently drunk out of their heads. The samurai assigned to guard the party looked bored or half-asleep, a tall one in green by the door clearly fighting the urge to nod off. The shorter one next to him looked oddly familiar, but from where she was, she couldn't make out exactly what he looked like.

"You'rerealprettyyy..."

She nearly jumped. When she looked up, it was one of the attending Dutchmen. Not Krei, but some man who looked younger, around her age, and who was smiling widely and weirdly at her with all his teeth showing. His eyes were half-lidded, his face red and framed by a mess of brown hair. He was in formal clothes suited for the Dutch, some kind of neat gray suit.

Great. This was what she'd been expecting and dreading. A man flirting with her, though at least it was a drunk man. Hopefully Aiko was right about dealing with them.

GoGo repressed the urge to roll her eyes and forced as polite a smile as she could, which was tight and strained and probably proof of why she'd never make a good geisha on her own. _Just say you have to go to the lavatory, or something like that, and slip away. _"Thank you."

"I'm—'m seeerio_us," _the man slurred. He leaned forward, close enough for his nose to nearly brush hers and too closely for comfort, and GoGo nearly caught herself gagging at the smell of his breath. That was _sake_, alright. "You're like...likelike an _angel_ or...o-or somethun'. Nice, nice _pur_pl_e_ and shtuuufff-f-f. Yaknooow?"

She could barely decipher his attempt at Japanese, but she got the gist of it. "Yes, I know," she managed, her voice very strained. "I need to go to the lavatory. Excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, she all but leaped to her feet and hastily pushed past him. Ignoring the slurred "hey wuhwait, where ya _goiiin'?",_ she shoved her way into the cramped crowd in the hall and hoped she'd be able to disappear. There was more than enough guests around, surely he'd lose sight of her, and she could go out to the garden. That man she'd seen earlier there had to be gone by now, right-

"GoGo!" Aiko was breathless and exuberant, practically colliding into her the moment she'd come down from the stage. GoGo made a strangled noise that wasn't quite a groan. "Did you _see_ that? I hit that last high note! I've never been able to do that before and that's why I never sang that song before but now I _can! _I just need my woodblock prints—"

"Great," GoGo choked out. "Real great, Aiko, real—"

"I'll have to introduce you to someone!" Aiko went on. "I told you about that poet, Mariko, right? We met at my last performance in this district, at one of the other halls down the street, and she's here! She's great at what she does, you should seriously read some of her work sometime—"

"We should really get going soon, Aiko," Harumi interrupted. She was breathing a bit hard, face flushed through her pale makeup, and strands of her perfectly arranged hair had come loose. "This is our last performance tonight—"

"We will," Aiko reassured her. GoGo glanced behind her, breathing a sigh of relief to herself when she saw that the weird drunk Dutchman was nowhere in sight. "But I just want to introduce you to a friend first. It'll only be a minute or two."

"'A minute or two' doesn't mean an hour in this case, does it?" Ayame deadpanned, fluttering a golden fan before her face. "If you'll excuse me, ladies, I need to go outside. A breath of fresh air, if you will."

With that, she turned and moved away towards the hall. Aiko only glanced after her before giving a shrug. "Well," she said nonchalantly, "let's give her a break. In the meantime, Mariko's in the room down the hall, so this'll be fast."

She led the way, navigating the crowd with ease and with GoGo and Harumi close on her heels, while another geisha took the stage with a _shakuhachi__._

* * *

At this rate, Hiro was about ready to fall asleep. The party must have gone on for at least over two hours. Or was it just one? Or maybe it all only seemed longer than it really was because of just how bored he was and how tired he was from everything earlier and how late the hour was getting. He'd even drunk _sake _just for something to do other than stand around near the door and occasionally walk around to check on Fred, although it'd only been one cup and he hadn't drunk all of it because of the look Wasabi had given him.

Damn Wasabi and his talent for non-verbal guilt-tripping.

Hiro had no idea just how much Fred had drunk, but it'd apparently been enough for him to nearly run into the wall several times and trip over other drunk guests. He was starting to wish Fred was one of those people who'd fallen asleep after drinking, if only so he wouldn't have to worry about constantly making sure he didn't split his head on a table or hadn't gone outside and fallen on some rocks. Right now, Fred was just standing against a wall and mindlessly humming along to the ballad the geisha on stage was singing.

It was nothing compared to Yama, though. The man was looking at him in a way that made his skin crawl, and he wasn't sure if that could be chalked up to just the drinking getting to him. From Hiro's experience, angry drunk men didn't normally just glare menacingly at the people they were angry with, they got right up in their faces and screamed and raved and fell over themselves and occasionally vomited.

He wondered what it could be if it wasn't Yama just being drunk and mad. Maybe it was, well, the same reason a lot of people had glared at him. Was Yama one of those people who could just tell? Now that he was a lot closer to the man than when he'd arrived, he thought Yama looked a little familiar. Maybe he'd seen him around before or something. Edo was a crowded place, after all.

Hiro did anything but stare back. He stared at the ceiling, at the walls, at the floor, at the guest with a courtesan in his lap, at Krei playing an intense game of _mekuri karuta_ with some other guests, at the geisha singing and the others dancing on stage. It'd be better not to risk making him angrier by returning the eye contact or glaring back. It wasn't part of _bushido _to get involved in petty fights for no reason, he reminded himself.

He glanced at Wasabi, feeling a little relieved when he saw him yawn. At least he wasn't the only one ready to nod off.

"Hey," Hiro muttered. "Do you know anything about Yama?"

"...What?" Wasabi mumbled back.

"Yama," Hiro repeated, jerking his head slightly in Yama's direction. Wasabi glanced at him.

"Other than that he's a lord, no," he replied wearily. "Not a good guy to make angry, from what I've heard, and apparently he gets angry a lot, but that's nothing new. You'd be amazed at the things nobles can get worked up about."

Hiro raised his eyebrows. "Really? Such as?"

"Tea," Wasabi deadpanned. "Gardens. Flower arrangements. Calligraphy mistakes. Name it and they've gotten mad about it. Can't say anything about it, but it happens."

"Wow," Hiro muttered under his breath. But he couldn't help adding, "Are you really one to talk, though? There was that wasabi..."

"_One time," _Wasabi reminded him sharply, sounding rather miffed. "It was one time, Hiro!"

Hiro couldn't contain his snickering. "Okay, okay. Sorry. I swear."

He turned back to sneak a glance at Yama again, but the man had simply turned back to his table. Two geisha were sitting with him, whispering things with each other he couldn't hear, and one man next to Yama was nodding off.

"We should be getting ready to leave soon," Wasabi commented curtly for a change of topic, as the singing geisha on stage hit a particularly high note. "We'll have to go early if we want to make it back without any trouble. It's already beyond dark, and I don't trust most of the party not to do something stupid before we return."

"Hey, the worst case scenario is us having to carry them on our backs because they can't walk," Hiro suggested lightly. "I'll get Fred."

"I'll talk to Krei," Wasabi replied, moving away. "I might have to step in to save him before they start throwing things. They take their _mekuri karuta _pretty seriously."

"Right," Hiro said absentmindedly, looking around at where Fred had been in the spot against the wall. Just his luck, because now Fred wasn't there.

_Damn it._

He set off through the crowd, careful not to jostle or shove the guests he passed by and often squeezed his way between, constantly looking around. It was at that opportune moment when the one he was looking for slammed into him and against the wall.

"_Ow!" _Hiro barely caught his balance, rubbing his now sore shoulder. "Fred! There you are, listen, we're leaving—"

"Hirooo! Hiro, my man! Whatsa goin' on?" Fred slurred, stumbling and flailing his arms wildly. "Ohgod, you _sh_oul_d _meet this girrll I saw, she was like, _soooo_-o-o pretty, purple and stuff-"

"Tell me about it later." Hiro puts his hands on his shoulders in an effort to steady him, but that didn't stop Fred from nearly slapping him in the face from his flailing. "Right now, we need to get going, so stick with me, alright?"

"But Hiro, this _girrrrlll_," Fred groaned. "Ya gotta...ya got_ta_ meet her, man! She's like, an angel or somethun, her eyes were like all _gold_, and shiny, _andandand_..."

Hiro felt a small jolt at the mention of eyes of gold, inexplicably remembering the geisha he'd passed earlier. He shook his head. _Focus_. "Okay, that's nice, Fred, really nice. Great. But we need to get going, _now_."

At the last word, he grabbed his arm and started to drag him through the crowd. Fred followed unsteadily, stumbling and tripping over himself as he wove in and out through the throngs. He spotted Wasabi in the corner with Krei, who had now put down his cards. Some of the other guests at the card-laden table looked rather disgruntled, while the _tayu _was sipping serenely from a cup of _sake. _

"Let's just head outside," Hiro continued hurriedly, rushing through the hall at this point. "We'll wait for Wasabi and everyone else."

"So pretttyyyy..." Fred was still stumbling, although he at least wasn't flailing around anymore. When they reached the hall door, Hiro wasted no time in shoving it open and getting into the hall.

Several turns and more drinking-induced ramblings from Fred later, and they were outside. Hiro let out a long breath, clutching Fred's shoulder. Alright, he reminded himself. This would be simple. They would be leaving soon, nothing stupid would happen, it'd be _fine. _Really.

"Ungrateful _bitch!" _Hiro jumped at the sound of a scream, letting go of Fred and spinning around. _What_—_?_

Yama was violently shaking a geisha in a teal kimono, practically lifting her off of the ground with his thick hands squeezing her arms. She was futilely trying to pull away from him, shrieking curses while he continued to bellow and rant and rave hard enough to spit into her face. A fan had been dropped on the ground below their feet, and no one else was outside to see what was going on. No one except Hiro and a now collapsed, snoring Fred. Baku was nowhere in sight, and Hiro wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed about that.

Hiro gritted his teeth. What kind of man _was_ Yama? An affable host one minute and an angry, bullying drunkard the next?

_"Hey!" _he shouted. Both Yama and the geisha stopped mid-fight, turning to look just before he stalked up and stopped directly before Yama, glaring straight at him and his arms folded across his chest.

"Let. Her. _Go," _Hiro snarled, biting off the last word.

Yama blinked, momentarily stupefied, and his expression hardened into the same glare he'd been giving the geisha-the same one he'd given him earlier. _"You," _he spat, and Hiro had to marvel at how much sheer hatred he'd put into that one word. "This is none of your business, _brat. _I thought the shogunate knew better than to meddle where they shouldn't."

"The shogunate," Hiro said coldly, "knows to 'meddle' where they're needed. I will only repeat myself once, _Lord Ya__ma_. Let the woman go, _now_."

The woman in question was watching the exchange silently the whole time, and it was only up close, when Hiro was able to actually see her clearly, that he realized she was wearing a bandage over one side of her face that hid her eye. Of course, not only had Yama been bullying a geisha, he'd been bullying an injured one.

Yama only stared at him, looking as if he was seriously contemplating the idea Hiro might only be joking with him, before throwing his head back in laughter noisy enough for everyone inside the hall to hear. "And what will you do if I have no intention of listening, _samurai?" _he sneered. "Challenge me to a duel, is that it? Put your practice of playing with your toys to use?"

Hiro's glare never wavered. "All you have to do," he said flatly, "is leave the woman be. That is all I ask."

He was hoping this wouldn't turn into an actual fight, considering that they had no blades after the weapon confiscation at the security check. That and Yama towered almost two heads over Hiro, with enough bulk and frame to crush him. A sword duel would be one thing, but he was far from confident in the idea of taking him on hand-to-hand.

A muscle was working furiously in Yama's jaw as his eyes flicked back and forth, from the geisha to Hiro and back again, as if deciding which one he wanted to beat the most. Finally, he completely released his grip and let the geisha drop like a sack of cabbages, utterly discarding her. The moment she landed, she immediately crawled away to grab up her fan.

For a moment, Hiro was sure it was done. He began to turn to leave, or at least, he would have if not for Yama punching him across the face.

In the span of that second, the moment when it happened and before his realization of what had happened, he found himself literally seeing stars. The pain set in sharply to the point of almost numbing his jaw, and he hit the ground with a dull _thud. _The world seemed to have tipped over itself before his eyes, the wind utterly knocked out of him, and he only saw Yama, now upside down in his view, laughing again.

"Get up!" Hiro could only grunt as a heavy foot slammed into his side, rolling him over, and his ribs felt as if they'd caught on fire. "Get _up, _you brat! You were asking for a fight, weren't you? _Weren't you?"_

Head swimming, eyes stinging, Hiro dragged himself against the grass and staggered to his feet. This time, Yama's fist came again, but now prepared, Hiro instinctively blocked it and grabbed hold of Yama's wrist with both hands. Just an attempt at a tug forward and he launched his foot forwards into Yama's chest as hard as he could.

Yama let out a howl, stumbling back and barely catching himself before he attacked again. It wasn't long before the entire thing descended into a confusing chaos of a brawl, Yama constantly swinging and Hiro holding him off. Soon enough, Hiro was practically scrambling all over the place, evading the punches while trying to turn them against him and wishing fervently he had his sword.

_"Hiro!" _Wasabi was shouting, and he looked up. More than a few guests, not just the nobles in the party and the other samurai, were spilling out of the hall now and made a small throng against the doors. Krei looked torn between surprised and amused, the others shocked-including Wasabi. Numerous geisha had joined them, while the geisha from earlier was now gone. But it wasn't long before the older samurai had thrown himself into the fray, wrapping his arms around Hiro's torso and yanking him away from Yama's increasingly frenzied swinging. The moment he moved, two other samurai followed, and it wasn't long before they had grabbed hold of Yama and were dragging him back.

"Let me go! Let me _go, _you bastards, you fools!" Yama was screaming, thrashing wildly against the other samurai's hold in the manner of a fish in a net. "_Let me go! _Unhand me! _Unhand me_—_"_

"Lord Yama! Please, control yourself!" one of the samurai was pleading with him. "You have had too much to drink-"

"Hiro, what _happened?" _Wasabi demanded. He herded Hiro to the far side of the garden, at a safe enough distance away from Yama and the men restraining him. "One second I'm in the hall, just done talking to Krei so we can leave, and then outside I see you and _Yama_ fighting? _What is going on?"_

Hiro let out a long breath, massaging his ribs as he flopped down on the grass. Nearby, Fred gave a groan and flopped over onto his stomach. "I got Fred like I said I would, we went outside, I saw Yama harassing this geisha and he wouldn't let go of her, so I stepped in. Then he let her go and hit me, and...yeah."

He trailed off lamely at the end, not sure what else to say. Everything in his body was burning and all the breath felt as if it'd been wrung out of him, akin to water from a washcloth, solely from what had just happened. Sweat had gathered on his face, beading his forehead, and he wiped it off with his sleeve while taking deep breaths. Oh, god, he couldn't wait to get back.

Wasabi sighed. "Well, let's hope this doesn't happen again. At least you didn't get any serious injuries. Do you think you're still up for training tomorrow after this?"

"Of course I am!" Hiro replied defensively. "You know I'm always training. I'll walk this off, Wasabi, come on. Don't worry about me."

"I'll assume you're right," Wasabi said, clearly not convinced. "But for right now, we need to get going."

"Insolent _brat!" _Yama was bellowing. "Half-breed! _Dog! _I should have _known_, looked just like him, like _Hamada!"_

Hiro froze. Everything inside him felt as if it was tightening, freezing over, at just that last word. He hadn't even actually said _his _name, but that was enough.

Wasabi's eyes widened in alarm. "Hiro-"

"Good for nothing bastards," Yama spat. "Both of you! That son of a _bitch_, if only he'd have died sooner, I'd be-"

"Hiro, _no!" _Wasabi slammed Hiro back against the grass with his arm the moment Hiro lunged, leaving him fighting to get free. "Hir-"

He glared at Wasabi, breathing hard. "He-Yama needs to _shut the hell-"_

"Hiro?"

_Oh, god. _As if this couldn't get any worse. Wasabi looked up, his expression equally puzzled.

There stood Baku, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere, and that look he was giving Hiro was far too familiar for comfort. His expression still seemed neutral at first glance, but Hiro knew what he looked like when he was going to be stern along with his inevitable medical advice.

"Baku, why are you still here?" His tone came out more snappish than he'd meant to, but Hiro found he really couldn't care at the moment. Not with Yama still screaming for his blood in the background, anyway. Baku, for his part, looked completely unaffected, while Wasabi still looked confused.

"Your body heat has considerably risen," Baku commented serenely, his back to Yama. "This is indicated by your face being red. Methods of calming body heat include taking deep breaths—"

"—Baku—"

"—concentrating deeply on things the patient enjoys or finds soothing—"

_"_—_Baku_—_"_

"Baku, what are you—?" Wasabi began.

"—Baku, I _get it." _Hiro moved to get up, and now that he wasn't trying to get at Yama, Wasabi lifted his arm to let him wobble up on his feet. He brushed nonexistent dust off of his arm. "I'm calm now, alright? You can...go, or whatever. I'm fine."

To demonstrate, he took in a long, deep breath. Then another. In, out. In, out.

Baku was still staring at him. "Here. Have a _wagashi."_

With that, he dropped a small white cake, round and slightly sticky and still wrapped in paper, onto Hiro's hand. Hiro barely avoided dropping it, fumbling with it slightly before he had it cupped in his palms as was appropriate.

He stared at it, then looked at Baku. Then looked at Wasabi, who just shrugged. Then he looked at Baku.

"I...uh. Thank you," he replied lamely, with an equally half-hearted bow of the head, if only because there wasn't a lot you could say when someone gave you a sweet while an angry lord was being dragged back into a hall and swearing about your parentage and hygiene all the way.

Baku's gaze continued unwavering, clearly expecting the obvious. Hiro repressed a sigh and popped the sweet into his mouth. It was chewy, a bit overly sweet on his tongue, but at least he got it down in only a few bites.

But Baku was _still _staring, at least until Wasabi spoke up. "Hiro, we need to..."

"I know." The words came out sharper than Hiro intended. "Let's-let's just get going, alright?"

He gave a cough and turned away. Fred was still lying face-down in the grass, breathing heavily and occasionally snorting, and Hiro grabbed his arm to get him up. Wasabi rushed to help, soon enough supporting him between the two of them.

"Hiro?" Fred mumbled, blinking and tilting his head slightly. "You-wha-"

"Let's get His Lordship home before he starts puking on himself," Wasabi muttered dryly. "Come on, Fred."

"Drunkenness often leads to hangovers and vomiting," Baku interjected. "Common cures for the hangover are-"

"Thanks a lot, Baku, but we're done here." Hiro took a step forward and nearly staggered. Fred was sagging at this point, head starting to bob, and Hiro was now desperately hoping he wouldn't start getting the alcohol out of his system on the way back.

Wasabi gave him a significant glance. "I can carry him on my back, if you're not-"

"What did I tell you, Wasabi?" Hiro groaned. "I'm fine. Really. Let's just leave. Good night, Baku."

There was a pause. He'd forgotten something, hadn't he? That was it. "And...I'm satisfied with my care."

That seemed to be it for him. Baku dipped his head. "Good night, Hiro, Wasabi, Fred. I will see you soon."

"Good night," Wasabi replied, although the look he was giving Hiro when he said it was enough to tell Hiro that the older samurai had no idea what just happened. Hiro made a mental note to explain it in the morning, when they both weren't so worn out anymore.

One thing was for sure, he thought, as they made their way with Fred past the hall: he'd definitely had enough of the Yoshiwara for the night, if not the year.


End file.
